Something Like Australia
by basicmath
Summary: "Love and other things like it are bound to at times appear to wane. Over copious amounts of time spent learning, observing, and seeing everything, flaws and all, love sometimes seems to not be enough. " Santana and Quinn find their relationship to be in a rut of sorts. That is until Quinn disappears only to be found with some rather delicate information.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Today I woke up from a nap and just started writing this so it might not make much sense but yeah hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

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I guess it happens to all of us. No matter how hard we try to escape or avoid it, it happens. Love and other things like it are bound to at times _appear_ to wane. Over copious amounts of time spent learning, observing, and seeing everything, flaws and all, love sometimes _seems_ to not be enough. Among those things also comes the realization of time. Whether it be the realization of time wasted or being under the allusion of having more time. Mediocrity and half-assedness come in, taking the front seat in our lives. Routine appears like a plague and settles in to take root. With love there lies no room for all of that routine nonsense. That vanilla sense. Despite my best efforts to avoid all this, somewhere along those lines it happened to me.

When it happened it was surreal for me. Life lately for me was like being a crossing guard on a busy New York street. I was in control of everything around me. Until I wasn't. Simple actions, are sometimes not enough. A hand held up in a symbol to halt does not always ensue the driver will. I soon found out there was only so much I could accomplish myself. So much was out of my hands. Yet still there was so much I could attempt to get within my grasp. That is exactly why I am here, waiting calmly for what seems like the first time in a very long time.

I know for a fact she's here, just beyond the door I'm now standing in front of. Upon realizing she had left my mind raced at the possibilities of where she would be. Along with my mind, my feet found themselves racing to find her also. From Lima, to New York, to Houston and now I was here. I remember the phone call two days ago that had brought me here.

_"All I can say San, is she's safe."_

_I took a deep breath, attempting to expel the anger I felt rising. My frustration was coursing rapidly throughout my body as my oldest friend withheld precious information from me._

_"Brittany, just at least give me a hint...please."_

_After a pause, and a defeated sigh I heard her speak again. "She's the one place she knows you'll find her, but were you'd never look."_

Instantly I knew where she was and was on the next plane as soon as I could book a flight. Brittany had been absolutely right when she said it was a place I'd never look, because in reality why would I after all that happened? I laughed bitterly thinking of all the reasons why she had chosen this place of all places to run to. These thoughts quickly bombard my mind violently and stills my hand poised for a knock. And just like that my calm is gone, replaced by a fear. If worst case scenario plays out like it happens to be playing in my mind, my being here is useless. As my mind muses scarily over the thought I am brought to reality as the door swings open quickly.

She halts upon noticing my presence. Taking in my presence her face remains expressionless. I notice a few changes about her in mere seconds. The biggest one being her hair is shoulder length, unlike it was a week ago when I'd last seen her. Another is that the pale pink cardigan she wears appears to be slightly wrinkled. A relief floods through me upon seeing her left hand, there lies on her slender fourth finger a familiar sparkle. A snort on her part brings my eyes up to meet here's as she opens her mouth to speak.

"Took you long enough.", that's all she says as she opens the door wider in invitation as I stand stock still in confusion. As much as I want to snap right now at her smugness, I very much more want to know why we're here in the first place. I decide quickly to put on the role of civil Santana and walk into the quaint apartment.

"Weren't you going somewhere?" I ask as sitting down on the couch.

She shrugs her shoulders in a nonchalant way. "Doesn't matter now. Would you like something to drink?" Her eyes sparkle as she motions toward the kitchen and I feel a flutter within my stomach that I thought had disappeared.

"No but I would like to know why?" I question wasting no time. Her eyes narrow quickly at me before she smirks and I know now who I am dealing with. I am always amazed at how quickly she changes. She lets out a melodious laugh before smirking, eyes now gazing off into the distance.

"You know very well why I left, honey."

It's now time that I find my own eyes narrowing, because I honestly have no clue as to what the hell she is talking about. "No, Quinn. I don't."

She surprises me when she leaves her spot perched on the edge of the couch to sit on my lap. Her arms find rest around my neck as my hands almost instantly find purchase around her hips. "We needed to get away."

"We?" I question in utter confusion. "If 'we' needed to get away then why did you hop on a plane, all by yourself especially to this damn place without telling me."

Her eyes roll before she opens her mouth to speak. "Tell me honestly that you would've come if I'd asked you."

As I ponder upon what she says I come to the conclusion that she is indeed right. Unwilling to admit it my arms tighten lightly around her waist. "Well then why the hell did we need to get away?"

"Because I love you."

I knew then to leave it there. Although I didn't understand her completely, it was her way of fixing things. Peculiar as it is, it's how she worked. She won't say much, but what she does speak volumes.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, favs, and follows they are greatly appreciated. (:

Here's chapter two hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or any characters.

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A secret no one knows about me is that one of my favorite hobbies is watching Santana. As creepy as it sounds I have my right to stare unabashedly at her because she is my wife. The other secret is that this was very much true even before we were even together, back when it was an insane future to even think, much less dwell on. Many will agree she is an amazing person to admire as she turns heads wherever she goes because of her beauty, but I admire that and her quirks. The things that not everyone can see on just the surface, but the things that make her Santana, the woman I love. Whether it be her brushing her teeth in the morning while humming the alphabet, or singing "Starships" while washing the dishes, or yelling at the "marvelously moronic" drivers on the road in spanglish, she was utterly captivating. Besides those things the one thing I absolutely love watching her do most is sleep. Gaining access to watching her sleep has been one of the greatest perks of our relationship. With the state our relationship has been in as of late, watching her sleep has taken a backseat.

As I stand in the doorway I watch her in amusement. Santana has a habit of sleeping one of two ways, and that is with or without someone. For instance waking up this morning I found Santana in my arms, breath ghosting against my neck every other second, one of her hands on my hip, the other gripping my shirt, and her leg thrown over mine. Relativly calm. Now she lays sprawled out leisurely with one arm hanging over the side of the bed, mouth wide open, softly snoring. Every now and then she will mumble something incoherent. I've found her to be a rather entertaining sleeper when she has the bed all to herself. There's been times I've seen her throw a couple of punches and kicks that have gave me a sense of relief knowing she is calmer with me in bed. I'm still debating whether to wake her or not when she starts to roll over mumbling again. Her hand moves about the bed as she keeps moving around in an effort to get comfortable.

"Quinn." That's all she says before moving her hand again. I smile at the realization of who she's attempting to find. I think about going to her when reality crashes in. Despite our efforts put forth in the past twenty four hours I have to remember Rome wasn't built in a day. Yesterday was progress yes but very little. Last night was just the first night in weeks that we actually shared a bed. Most nights Santana slumbered on the couch. It wasn't odd for Santana to fall asleep in front of the t.v. at all. Sometimes I'd wake her up by blowing softly in her ear which she'd wake angrily, her eyes deadly before she'd mumbling how I 'better be glad she loves me". Other nights when my eyes would be barely opened I'd join her. But somewhere in the past months it became a regular occurrence for her to sleep on the couch and for me to stay in our bed alone. That's why this morning I had a bittersweet joy of finally waking up to her again, instead of empty, cold sheets.

I knew something with us had to change, we needed this. To get away from our day to day lives, to get back to us. For me, for her, for us. But especially _for her._ Santana and I couldn't continue like this, not when I love her and I knew how much she loves me. On the bed he makes another attempt, grasping at my pillow before her eyes open slowly. Moments later her eyes land on me still in the doorway.

The rest of her body remains still as her sleep eyes just stare at me before a small smile appears on her face.

"Hey."

"Good morning." I reply keeping my distance, leaning on the doorframe.

"How long have you been up?"

I take in her dark hair fanned out against the pillows, her face lovely still at this hour, and her body, her wondrous body as she stretches along the mattress. I avert my eyes to the dresser before getting further distracted. "Since about seven."

"Hm, what time is it now?" She ask me before yawning, her voice extra raspy.

"Quarter to nine, I made breakfast." I say before exiting the bedroom. Abrupt, I know, but that voice, that hair, and that skin were distracting. It's not like I couldn't touch, it's just I didn't feel like the appropriate time. While all the change in other aspects of our relationship had manifested in one way or another our sex lives was no exception. Just because we didn't sleep in the same bed didn't mean we stopped our traditional bed-like activities. But there was a change in. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what the change was. The only word I could define it as would be, different.

Santana enters the kitchen moments later taking a seat at a table, as I plate our breakfast.

She mumbles out a "Thanks" as I place an omelet and toast in front of her.

"This is really good Q." She says after moments of eating silently.

"Thanks, did you sleep well?"

She laughs softly before looking up. "Yeah." She pauses. "Best sleep I've had in a while."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She looks down. "Had a dream that was freaky as hell though."

I find myself quirking an eyebrow knowing whatever she's about to say next is gonna be bizarre. She always has rather interesting dreams.

"Me and you were walking in the woods right?" I nod my head as she continues. "Then that big ass bear from "Bear in the Big Blue House" told us to go in this cave or we were gonna get eaten. Remember that show?" I nod again. "Well we go in the cave and inside is a Ke$ha concert. I think this dream was trying to tell me something."

I let out a laugh."Yeah, that we should go see Ke$ha? Does she even make music anymore?"

"I think so." Santana shrugs before returning to her food. Silence engulfs us once again, and I refuse to let us resort back to that. I have to try. We have to, to get to that place again. For _her_.

I place my fork down as I finish before taking a deep breath. I shouldn't be nervous no, but I am. It's always been an odd feeling for me to feel now it's here in the pit of my stomach. This fear of being rejected. I glance down before deciding to take the plunge.

"I was thinking..."

"Yeah." She looks up from her food, making eye contact and sending my heart into a fluttering frenzy.

"It's Wednesday."

"Yeah."

"You know we haven't had Whatever Wednesday in a while." I said referencing our ritual that dated back to my days at Yale. We had continued the tradition well into our marriage eventually went from every week, to every other week, to once a month, to pretty much non-existent.

"Yeah you're right." She says cautiously before pausing. "But I think it's irrelevant now. We actually have money now, we're not struggling. If you want something you can go buy it."

I find my eyes wandering to the ceiling in frustration. She had done exactly what I expected her to do. My fears that are rapidly approaching my mind take a backseat to the anger I feel at her disdain at my attempt at another step to fixing us. Breathing through my nose, I find myself shaking my head. "That's not the point Santana."

I hear her sigh, before hearing the legs of her chair scrape against the linoleum floor and I want to say something but I can't. My frustration has engulfed me and in my anger I don't want to say the wrong thing.

"I have to shower." She announces taking her plate to the sink.

As she exits the room I find myself slightly disappointed in myself. Nothing was going to change with us if we stayed the same ourselves. I stay in the kitchen, cleaning everything leisurely glancing down the hall every once in a while. I'm wiping down the same spot on the counter for the past ten minutes when she finally emerges an hour later.

"You ready?" She ask without looking at me, feigning interest in the inside of her purse. It's her way of telling me she's going along with my plan, maybe she could see the opportunity this held for us. A small stepping stone towards a brighter future.

"Yeah." I say as she makes her way towards the door. When she gets there she pauses for a second before turning to coming face to face to me. She does the unexpected and takes it a step further than I thought she would.

"I'm sorry."

I stare at her for a second before offering an apology of my own. "Me too."

I don't think she actually believes me because as we walk down the hall she hesitates grabbing my hand, as ours bump casually along the way. Finally she grabs my hand once we reach the elevator. Once inside I interlace our already clasp hands. In the reflection of the elevator I see a small smile make its way onto her face.


End file.
